


Interlocked Pinkies

by CatScratchfel9 (Catscratchfel9)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Backround Kimball and Tucker, Blood, Drabble, M/M, in the same place, not together just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3734440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catscratchfel9/pseuds/CatScratchfel9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Simmons was taken instead of Sarge in that fateful cave-in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlocked Pinkies

“What the flying FUCK do you mean you couldn't get to him?!” Dexter Grif yelled. Well, it wasn't really unusual for Grif to be yelling, but this time it was serious, and everybody could tell. A crowd had formed around Kimball and Grif.

 

“Captain Grif, it was dire. We had to get out of there. I'm sorry your friend wasn't saved. But thats war-” Kimball tried reasoning, but couldn't get her last sentence out before Grif throw his helmet down, getting up close and jabbing her chest with a finger.  
“Richard? Richard-fucking-Simmons was...IS more that a friend. That bastard? I'm fucking married to him. Now, you're going to organize a rescue mission that I am going to be on, or you are going to have a hell of a time finding new troops.” Grif growled, unaware that he had probably just spilled his apparent lover's greatest secret. Kimball looked taken back, coughing awkwardly before standing up straight, but lowering her head in shame.  
“We'll have a mission out there soon. I'm... I'm sorry, for whatever its worth to you, Dexter.” She added, before walking out. The crowd parted for her, but eventually fully disappated. The realization of what he just did slapped him in the chest like a train as he started the walk back to his bunk. Their bunk.  
It still smelled like Simmons.

 

When he got to see Simmons' again, the man was tired and limping. But Grif dropped his gun and ran forward, engulfing him in a large hug, the likes of which couldn't even be matched by a Caboose hug. He heard a sob escape his husband's mouth before he tore off their helmets, hand cupping the bruised cheek of the one and only Richard Simmons. Tucker coughed awkwardly, and they spread apart, still interlocking their pinkies in a silent promise to never let the other out of their sight.


End file.
